Despite the hours spent ruminating and twirling thoughts around, I’ve never given much attention to the prospects of becoming a parent or a grandparent or a godparent in the future (some things are just too distant to grasp, especially when there are more immediate worries to juggle). But I know that if I ever write a book, a children’s book perhaps, I would like the dedication to be as lovely as C.S. Lewis’s to his dear Lucy:

My Dear Lucy,
I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say but I shall still be

your affectionate Godfather,

C.S. Lewis


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